Darcy
by Jessicaoldaccount
Summary: For many years Colin Creevey has been working at the Daily Prophet as a photographer. When Colin kept recieving hate mail from someone called Darcy, he literally goes insane as Darcy gets in his head. Darcy will only leave if Colin KILLS someone famous!


**Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling; I just play in her footsteps.**

The Daily Prophet was known for producing the best newspaper in all of Britain and was furthermore acknowledged worldwide for it's old-fashioned aura. The main office in Diagon Alley was also noted for its architecture that made it stand out from its neighbors Obscurus Books and Scribbulus Everchanging Inks. It was an elevated, round, rust-colored tower. Near the top was an ever expanding owlery to manage the deliveries, orders, letters, etc that flew in every day. Each floor excluding the owlery represented different sections of the world-renowned paper.

The edifice's organization and structural design may make an impression on tourists but it no longer was of any interest to Colin Creevey. He had seen it every morning and every night since he had graduated from Hogwarts and became one of the Daily Prophet's top photographers.

Two years afterwards his brother Dennis joined him at the Daily Prophet becoming a well-known reporter. Naturally the two brothers paired up and shortly after named themselves The Creevey Brothers. Their eagerness, their connection to Harry Potter and their ability to laugh in the devil's face or at least afterwards impressed their boss enormously. Therefore the Creevey Brothers recently became (by their supervisor's request) one of the few unfortunate souls who sought Lord Voldemort instead of fleeing from him and his death-eaters.

Colin had just returned from a mission as he and Dennis had jokingly called them. This 'mission' had him alongside Dennis in Voldemort's childhood home. Not long ago, Harry Potter had 'accidentally' told the Creevey brothers that Lord Voldemort's real name was Tom Riddle, and of his half-muggle patronage. After much researching they discovered the Riddle family home. Unfortunately, the only thing of interest they found in the forsaken house was a gargantuan, aged snakeskin.

Colin and Dennis accomplished their 'mission' a day early so they had the day off, as a muggle would say. Colin had in his hand the story and photographs on the Riddle house for his boss. He also was planning on picking up the reviews from the latest Creevey Brothers story.

The Daily Prophet doorman offered his services that were kindly received by Colin as he stepped up the large stone steps.

The astonishing first floor of the Daily Prophet Office nearly dazzled him with its radiance, as it always did when he stepped into the building. Every square inch was overflowing with masterpieces of departed artists. The pristine marble floor gleamed and reflected light into the eyes of the people who stepped on them, despite of all of the wizards, witches, goblins, etc that passed through this level every day with muddy shoes. On the 700th anniversary of the Daily Prophet someone had jokingly claimed that the Daily Prophet's floor was their only weapon at keeping away unsolicited guests

"Good mornin' Colin," purred a hefty woman named Linda Cottletop, with clothes on that might had fit her when she was sixteen. Although, Colin never noticed her odd sense of fashion and bodyweight after he had got to know her. She was a very bright woman with a very witty sense of humor. That humor got the office bullies laughing at themselves when they had tried attacking her with rude comments.

"Nice day isn't it, Mrs. Cottletop," answered Colin.

"As nice as it can be excepted, Colin," agreed Linda.

"So, what's the latest gossip," asked Colin. Mrs. Cottletop was one of the head gossip writers for the paper.

"Well, last night the Minister of Magic was spotted at a Muggle restaurant named "The Dog's Café". What an awful name, huh. Well anyways he wasn't alone cause a girl was with him! A pretty girl too! And..." rattled on Linda before she was interrupted.

"Other people want in too, you know. So go to your offices and converse there, away from me," rudely interrupted the livid doorman. Linda and Colin had been blocking the front entrance, and behind them were about ten people waiting for them to unblock the entrance.

"Most sorry!" apologized Linda.

"Yeah, sorry about that," muttered Colin.

"Damn gossipmongers," grumbled an elderly lady as she walked by.

"No need to be rude about it," snarled Mrs. Cottletop.

"Well I'll catch up on that gossip later, Mrs. Cottletop," shouted Colin back to Mrs. Cottletop as he strolled through the hectic crowds towards the elevator to take him to the 4th floor where his office was located.

"Sure thing, hun!"

Colin nodded to the witches and wizards he met on the way to the office. Occasionally he would stop to converse with some of his co-workers he was more familiar with. He excitingly told them of his latest photographs that he had taken for the paper. While they painfully smiled their way through the conversation they had with Colin. No one really hated Colin, but no one really liked him either. He would chatter on non-stop about either, the war, Harry Potter, his latest photograph, or congratulate them on their story, photographs, etc. To attempt to change the subject or endeavor to get your opinion into the conversation was folly and basically a waste of ones time. Everyone agreed that Colin Creevey was an excitable chap who took pride in his work.

At last Colin reached the door that lead to the private, little office that he shared with his brother. On the stained, oak door was a gold plaque that read 'Creevey Brothers' in large letters and if one observed the smaller font below it said 'Reporter and Photographer of Dangerous Events in the Wizarding World'.

The inside of the office would have any mother quote that famous saying 'it looks like a tornado went through your room. There was nauseating droppings on almost everything except the desk left by the many owls that flew in an out of the open window on top of the door and the other facing the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. Their inventive wallpaper consisted of all of their articles expertly glued to the wall. Just over half of the office was covered because they had published so many articles. Papers, photographs, books were cluttered everywhere in the tiny office except for their antique desk which was kept immaculately clean.

The desk designers had conveniently built the piece with two places where someone could sit. The side facing the main door was occupied by Colin's brother Dennis had his ancient typewriter that typed whatever you told it too at incredible speed with spelling and grammatical accuracy, on display. To the left of his prized typewriter were two organized bins; one was for completed stories, while the other was for incompletes. On his right were normal writing utensils and parchment. Dennis, who was brought up in the muggle world like his brother Colin, had a notebook, a HB pencil along with other muggle reporter's devices that puzzled some of the witches and wizards on the 4th floor. Colin on the other hand preferred to be by the smaller adjoining 'dark room' where he could develop his pictures privately if wished. His side only had similar bins like his brothers and various cameras. Most of his photography paraphernalia was in the aforesaid 'dark room'. He smiled at this sight before closing the door behind him.

Colin had just placed the completed photos and article in the correct bin, when he heard smart rapping at his door. Hesitantly he pulled open the heavy door to find the 4th floor secretary standing there with a hearty smile. Her porcelain hands held some parchments most likely for him. "Why hello there Miss Diehl, what can I do for you today?"

"You can start by being a gentlemen by assisting me with these papers," said Miss Diehl with a grin.

"Of course," exclaimed Colin as he took half of her papers in one hand and opened the door wide open so she could enter.

As Miss Diehl bounced into the room Colin couldn't help but momentarily stare at her figure. Miss Diehl wasn't one of those drop-dead beautiful women that most men dream about while slobbering on their pillow. Miss Diehl was a striking woman. She made men turn their heads for a second glance at her mysteriously attractive figure. The legendary beauty of models was so obvious they became a bore to look at. All of their secrets were yours in one simple glimpse. There was nothing on the inside but emptiness. Whatever god(s) they believe in labored to create the outside of their bodies, they didn't bother with the inside. While the secrets of women like Miss Diehl always escaped you especially when you came close to finding the key. The key would unlock the elusive secrets of these beauties. The results of such a find are mysterious and rare. Not even the wisest philosopher ever to walk this earth could inform you what the most common result was. Colin had came so close to finding that indescribable key many times, but never did he feel it's steel against his sweaty palm.

Miss Diehl had curly, tawny hair that she had loosely pulled back into an elegant chignon. Her large, sea blue eyes reflected intelligence, courage, and an impish nature. Her petite nose and mouth were surrounded by a roseleaf complexion that was concealed under many mischievous freckles. The latest fashions were worn modestly on Miss Diehl. Over all, she was a slender woman with a hidden puckish side. Many a time Colin came close to asking her out for a romantic date; but he was a strong believer in not developing relationships with people from work. So naturally his sensible side overtook his insensible side.

As Miss Diehl busied herself with placing all of Colin and Dennis' mail, papers, etc on her desk Colin quickly glanced at the silver, round mirror. Since both Colin and Dennis were rather short, the mirror had been positioned lower vs. the typically higher-placed mirrors. His mousy, brown hair definitely was mousy that morning for the reason that it resembled a mouse nest. He had forgot entirely about brushing his teeth also that morning. One quick glance at Miss Diehl assured him that she wasn't looking. Colin hurriedly muttered a spell under his breath that caused his hair to magically flatten to a respectable style. Another speedy spell murmured under Colin's breath freshened his mouth.

"The letters on the left are reviews and fan mail, this is of course the most recent copy of the Daily Prophet. Enjoy!" stated Miss Diehl before she hurried out of the door to deliver more letters and papers.

"Yippee," exclaimed Colin sarcastically.

First, Colin skimmed through the Daily Prophet until he found his and Dennis's article. Only after he had vigilantly cut out the column and glued it firmly to the half-covered wall did he start for the fan mail.

There was about 20 letters from fans altogether. The first three were just short letters full of compliments of his and Dennis's work. The fourth one was intended for Max Bowerson who did similar work on the floor below them. The fifth to the fourteenth letters were similar to the first three. Most of them were also asking Colin or Dennis to introduce them to Harry Potter or for Harry Potters address. One letter from a teenage girl named Jessica Bahra wanted her love letter for Harry Potter forwarded to him. Colin had a little chuckle over Jessica's epistle and put it in his desk drawer to show to Dennis and possibly Harry later on.

Then he came to the fifteenth letter that would change his life forever! This was the eighth letter from the same person. The smile on his face was stunned at the contents and diminished to a frown full of sadness. It was full of sadness because the hurtful comments were true!

He read it over again out loud hoping to catch a falsehood he didn't notice before.

Dear Colin and Dennis Creevey.

Well first of all I want to say that you two are some of the worst reporters (and photographers) in the history of the Daily Prophet. The only reason you are as famous as you are because you are friends with Harry Potter. Without Harry Potter you would be two brochure-makers not reporters at the Daily Prophet. Dennis, your writing is very similar to my muggle-friends daughter who is failing Grade 9 English. And Colin, the pictures I take as a non-professional excel yours by far. No one will remember either of you when you are dead. You are both unimportant people who managed to become almost important because of your acquaintance with the VERY FAMOUS AND LOVED Harry Potter. So do yourself and me a favor and stop working at the Daily Prophet.

Yours not lovingly Darcy

Alas, how those words stung Colin like annoying persistent jabs from poisonous darts. This was true; these words that were written with such hatred and passion are true! He was never asked to cover anything but the phenomenal exploits of Harry Potter. He now recollected that his editor/boss smiles and compliments seemed forced somewhat. Also, he and Dennis barely managed to get 15 letters every week from fans of their work, while others got over 25. And usually it was the same people writing to them every week. And over half of them just asked to be acquainted with Harry Potter.

"But those letters also were full of compliments," murmured Colin to himself.

"Ahh...true, but they probably just wanted to get you in a good mood with their compliments," answered a wicked voice in his head.

"Who are you?" Colin squeaked.

"I'm...Darcy," laughed the deep, sinful voice.

"Darcy is a girl's name and you sound like a man," said Colin with quiet contempt.

"I'm a man who wants to be a girl," it answered in a high voice while it choked on a snigger.

"What do you want," Colin demanded.

"To help you. You must prove me wrong! You must become famous; you must destroy someone who is already famous. Then everyone including me will remember your name," stated the now serious voice.

"But this isn't just addressed to me...Darcy. You also meant this letter for Dennis," said Colin.

"Dennis is nowhere close to being as awful as you. Anyway you don't need him," replied the voice with maliciousness.

"I always do everything with him though," argued Colin timidly.

"Not anymore," exclaimed the voice.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" screamed Colin as he covered his ears with his hands and ran out of the office.

"What was that all about," whispered a reporter to Miss Diehl.

"Yeah, what did you do the poor chap," asked a man with bulgy nose.

"I didn't do anything! Should I send an owl to Dennis about that?" wondered Miss Diehl.

"Nah, it's not like he's insane or anything Miss, now about this dinner," flirted the man with the bulgy nose.

"Oh, Carl," giggled Miss Diehl.

Colin never heard these almost rude comments about him. All he could hear was that voice...Darcy laughing at him. As he hurried down the crowded streets of magical Diagon Alley people were amused at him. The children thought he was a funny clown in disguise. The adults shook their head with pity at the sight. Most likely the poor man injured his ears somehow. If it was only that.

He finally noticed the stares from the crowd so he ran swiftly to his room in the Leaky Cauldron.

"You can't run from me Colin, I go where you go. I know where you always are you unimportant scumbag," teased Darcy.

Colin kept shaking his head, covering his ears, in hopes that Darcy would leave.

"You can't shake me out, I will only leave when you become famous, Colin," mocked the voice as Colin huddled into the corner with tears streaming down his troubled cheeks.

Ten days later Colin Creevey appeared at the black, front door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place also secretly known as the headquarters of the Order of Phoenix. He amused himself with scratching off some peeling black paint until Mrs. Weasley opened the door.

The Malfoys had gained the house after Sirius's death. But before they could even step out of their own mansion to inspect the family home of the noble and most ancient house of Black, Professor Dumbledore procured a will that left the Number 12 Grimmauld Place to Sirius Black's godson Harry Potter. Professor Dumbledore always chuckled when he reminisced on the fuming faces of the Malfoys. Unfortunately Lucius Malfoy got his revenge when he murdered Dumbledore who gave his life so Voldemort would be no more and so Harry Potter could live to see another day. Sadly his noble attempts to save the wizarding world were in vain. Voldemort lived on, but he did become weaker thanks to Dumbledore's sacrifice.

"Why Colin Creevey, we haven't seen you around here for ages," exclaimed Mrs. Weasley.

"I've been busy," stated Colin.

"Well it looks like you have been. Your eyes have such violent purple rings under them. When was the last time you slept, Colin," mothered Mrs. Weasley.

"A couple of days ago," replied Colin as if Mrs. Weasley was a drill sergeant.

"You should be spending any free time sleeping not visiting," said a worried Mrs. Weasley.

"I'll go home and sleep after," guaranteed Colin with a little more warmth in his voice than before.

"You kids are all bonkers," muttered Mrs. Weasley.

"Pardon me?" asked Colin who didn't hear what Mrs. Weasley said.

"Nothing, just talking to myself. I daresay you came to see Harry, my children, Hermione, not me. They are all in the drawing room. Excuse me, I don't have the time to lead you there, but I'm sure you know where it is anyway," said Mrs. Weasley without taking a breath.

"Of course, madam," assured Colin as he turned towards the drawing room.

"Such good manners," said Mrs. Weasley to herself as she walked away.

"Remember what I told you Colin?" asked Darcy as Colin approached the drawing room door.

"Yes," answered Colin trance-like.

"Than do it," screamed the voice.

Colin shoved open the Drawing Room doors and at the same time snapped out his wand and aimed it at his target.

"Hey Colin! Stop fooling around with your wand and put it down," greeted Harry Potter with a stern smile.

"I'm not fooling Harry. AVADA KEVADA!" screamed Colin as he pointed his wand straight at the boy who lived.

Harry just stood there with a shocked look on his famed features staring at the green light that was shooting towards him.

Ginny shrieked which alerted Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen. Fred and George dropped the gobstones that they were holding in their hands surprised. Percy started going through his robe pockets nervously trying to find his wand. The now Hermione Weasley tried to grab her husband's hand with a startled scream. Her husband, Ron, was the first to react as he made a futile lunge at Harry hoping to push him out of the way. And Colin stood watching the whole spectacle with a huge, dazed grin on his face.

"Look at them Colin! Great job! I will never forget you now," said the voice as it left.

Ron's attempt to save his friends life was ineffective. His eyes that were full of icy rage stared down at Harry's emerald, glassy, dead eyes.

"You killed him Colin, why?" sputtered Hermione who had been crying.

"To get rid of Darcy, and so that no one will forget the name Colin Creevey," replied Colin with an evil grin as he broke laughing literally like a maniac.

"Drop the wand," said Percy calmly with his wand that he found too late in his hand. A tear rolled down his freckled cheek.

"I'm going to kill you Colin. You bloody traitor," yelled Ron as he started for Colin.

"Don't forget us!" exclaimed the Weasley twins who were serious for one of the first times in their life.

Colin looked at the scene with different eyes than he did before. Hermione was cradling Harry's head in her hands while tears of sadness gushed out of her eyes. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were consoling each other as they cried away their sorrow. Ron, George and Fred were advancing on him with their wands raised and their features angry. Percy was pointing his wand at him while trying to keep his cool. Percy probably would have been advancing as well but he had lost his legs when some Death Eaters captured him, years ago.

It suddenly hit Colin. He killed Harry Potter. He destroyed Harry Potter. He murdered Harry Potter. He was no more than a murderer. You-Know-Who would probably thank him for this and make him second-in-command of his immoral empire. He collapsed to his knees. Two days worth of meals were now on the floor. Lethargy evaded him as he stared at three wands in his face.

"I'm sorry, but Darcy made me," stammered Colin before he lost consciousness.

**A/N: How did you like it? I might write a sequel if I get lots of good reviews. I'm sorry if I offended anyone by killing off Harry and making Colin practically insane. I just thought it would be an interesting story to write and it was! Please take the time to leave a review.**


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